


Practice

by silentdescant



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Anal Fingering, Best Friends, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, High School, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Sexual Experimentation, Teenagers, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We should practice. With each other.”</p><p>“Yeah. We could get the whole scary virginity thing out of the way with someone we trust.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice

**Author's Note:**

> Miranda gave me a whole list of fic ideas she wants me to write. This is one. :)

“Don’t laugh, okay?”

Scott immediately laughs, which doesn’t give Mitch a lot of confidence.

“I’m serious!” he says. “Please don’t be weird about this.”

“About what?” Scott asks loudly. Mitch fights the urge to shush him. After a moment, Scott rolls his eyes and pulls Mitch into his arms in a lopsided hug. “Come on, you can tell me anything. I promise I won’t laugh.”

Slowly, Mitch extricates himself from Scott’s embrace and scoots to the middle of the bed, crossing his legs tailor-style. He hides his mouth behind both hands and whispers, “I’m still a virgin.”

Scott slaps his hands down on Mitch’s knees. “Oh my god, me too!” he says in a hushed, disbelieving tone.

“What? Really?”

“I was scared to tell anybody!”

“I thought you and—Really?”

“Really!”

Relief courses through Mitch like a sudden untwisting of his stomach; he can breathe a little easier simply knowing he’s not alone, the last late bloomer of his friend group. He smiles, a nervous chuckle escaping in a breath, and says, “I’ve just been wanting to meet these guys from Grindr but I’m too scared because I don’t know anything and I have no idea what they want or what I like or what to do, and I just—”

“Oh, Mitchy, don’t be scared!” Scott says, squeezing Mitch’s knee. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I mean, just don’t hook up with an asshole. Maybe don’t have sex on the first date. I don’t know. I’m talking out of my ass. I don’t have any advice. I don’t have any experience either.”

“I’ve watched a bunch of porn,” Mitch admits, his cheeks flushing hot. He can’t meet Scott’s eyes. “But everybody says it’s not realistic, and I mean, I’ve read a bunch of things too but that’s not at all the same and… Like, how can I know what it’s like if it’s not realistic, y’know? I just… I don’t know. I’m just nervous about it, I guess, and I can’t talk about it with anyone.”

“You can talk about it with me,” Scott says excitedly. “Tell me everything. What kind of stuff have you watched? Or read? Do you know what you want to do?”

Mitch exhales. “So much,” he says. “I mean, just… everything, you know? I just want to know what it’s like to touch somebody, you know? To… to have somebody touch me. To have somebody… interested. I just get so nervous thinking about it, like imagining I’m in bed with some guy and he just _expects_ me to know what I’m doing and I totally don’t and it’s scary to not know and what if I freak out on him and—”

“We should practice,” Scott cuts in, effectively ending Mitch’s anxious ramble.

Mitch stares at Scott, wide-eyed. Scott stares right back at him. Mitch is pretty sure his brain has stopped working, because his mind is utterly blank. He’s never been this speechless. Finally, Mitch says, “What?”

Scott is hesitant now when he repeats, “We should practice. With each other. Because I love you, and we won’t freak out with each other.”

He makes a good point. Mitch finds himself nodding. “Yeah,” he says. “We could get the whole scary virginity thing out of the way with someone we trust.”

“Right.”

Mitch laughs. “I can’t believe we’re even considering this.”

“But it’s a good idea, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I love you. You know that.”

“Yeah, I love you too.” Mitch laughs again. Nervous energy escapes in little bursts of uncontrollable giggles.

“We should do this,” Scott says. He seems calm now, somehow sure of himself, his back straight and his chin lifted. Mitch envies his confidence.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They stare at each other for another moment before Scott inches his body closer, leans in, angles his shoulders. Mitch isn’t quite sure how to respond; he mirrors Scott, leaning first one way and then the other, until their bodies align and their faces are close enough that Mitch can feel the warmth of Scott’s breath against his cheek. It’s weird and too close and Mitch wants to close his eyes but he can’t stop staring, and Scott is still staring right back at him.

“Okay,” Scott whispers, laughing breathily, and his eyes close and he holds Mitch’s shoulder firmly with his left hand and lays his right hand gently on Mitch’s neck, and suddenly they’re kissing, and his lips are soft and hot and so, so light, and a thousand butterflies burst into fluttery chaos in Mitch’s stomach.

This is not like kissing a girl. This is romantic and sweet and chaste and somehow sexy, and Mitch sighs, exhaling long and slow through his nose so he won’t interrupt the kiss. Scott’s left hand slides up, meeting his right around the back of Mitch’s neck, and his thumbs rest at the hinge of Mitch’s jaw, tilting him just so, and when Scott opens his mouth, Mitch is ready, and he responds automatically, following Scott’s lead, melting at the tease of Scott’s tongue, the wet heat of their shared breath.

It’s easy to relax into it, with Scott taking charge. Mitch’s heart feels like it’s racing and sluggish at once, like the butterflies are pumping through his veins and making him tingle all the way to his fingertips, and like his brain is slowly shutting down as a result of his heart stopping completely. It’s strange but it’s not awkward, it’s actually kind of nice, and Mitch thinks he could stay here forever, being kissed until he runs out of air.

He’s lightheaded now, actually, but he quickly realizes why, and it’s not a lack of air. Scott is cupping the back of his head now, his fingers ever so gentle as they push through Mitch’s hair. There’s somewhere else Mitch needs Scott’s hands, if they’re going to do this for real. But Scott doesn’t seem to be in any hurry.

Mitch finally lays his hand over Scott’s and drags it down. Scott, thankfully, takes the hint and strokes his way down Mitch’s back until his fingertips rest just above Mitch’s ass, like he’s scared to dip below the waistband of Mitch’s jeans. They’re still kissing and Mitch has to fight through the distraction of Scott’s tongue to grasp his hand again and push it into his pants.

Once Scott’s touching bare skin, he loses all hesitance. He shoves his whole hand into the back of Mitch’s jeans, pushing down his underwear, and grabs a handful of Mitch’s ass, touching and squeezing in a way that makes Mitch’s dick throb. Mitch returns the favor, digging his nails into Scott’s back—Scott hisses and bites Mitch’s lip and Mitch does it again, and again, and again.

“Fuck, okay,” Scott finally gasps, pulling away far enough to start taking off his shirt. “Get naked.”

They stand up on opposite sides of Scott’s bed to take off their clothes. It’s like a race. Mitch shoves his baggy jeans to the floor and whips his t-shirt over his head in the time it takes Scott to undo three of the buttons on his own shirt. Mitch isn’t shy about stripping off his underwear either, not now that it’s already shoved down and Scott’s been groping his bare ass.

“Fuck,” Scott groans.

“What?”

“You.”

Grinning, Mitch throws himself back onto the bed, preening under Scott’s hungry gaze. They’ve been naked in front of each other before, but this isn’t at all like a costume change in a busy, crowded dressing room. Mitch is hard, his cock thick and flushed and on display, and Scott’s pale chest is flushed pink, barely visible through the gap in his shirt. It feels right, though, and Mitch is shocked at how easy it is.

“Get naked,” he says impatiently, prompting Scott to give up on the buttons and wrestle his shirt over his head.

Mitch wraps his hand around his cock, just holding it for now, watching as Scott strips off the rest of his clothes. Waiting. He’s not shy in front of Scott, not even a little; it’s actually pretty thrilling to have Scott’s eyes raking up and down his naked body, taking in birthmarks and freckles and skin that never sees the light of day. It feels like Mitch is sharing a secret with Scott, his best friend in the world, the person he trusts more than anyone.

When Scott climbs back onto the bed, Mitch gets up on his knees to meet him for another kiss. It’s different now with skin touching skin, and Mitch can feel the warmth of Scott’s blush like Scott is an extension of himself. It’s addictive. Mitch understands now why people like this so much. Kissing and touching and sex—

“Wait,” Scott says, suddenly pulling back. “Are you fucking me or am I fucking you?”

“Obviously you’re fucking me,” Mitch answers.

“Not obviously!”

“Wait, did you want me to fuck you?”

Scott shrugs, loose-limbed and smiling again. “I’m whatever. We can do it this way, at least for now.”

This is a role reversal Mitch never considered even in his wildest fantasies. With others, sure, but with Scott? The idea of it, matched with the reality of Scott’s pale, pale skin and long, long legs, makes Mitch’s brain short-circuit.

Scott pulls a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms from his bedside drawer. Mitch raises an eyebrow.

“Do we need that? If we’re both…”

“I figure we’re better safe than sorry,” Scott replies, shrugging again. “How, um… How do you wanna do this?”

“Well, when I—” The nervous laughter bubbles out of him again. “When I do it myself, I’m usually… on my front. To reach easier.”

Scott’s quiet for a moment. He stares, his eyes dark, pupils wide. He licks his lips until they shine pink. He asks, “You do it yourself?”

It’s Mitch’s turn to shrug. And flush. His skin feels warm all the way down to his sternum, and he’s absolutely sure Scott can see it on him.

“Will you show me?”

Mitch looks up, surprised by the request. Scott is holding the bottle of lube awkwardly with both hands, half-outstretched like he can’t decide whether to give it to Mitch or not. Mitch takes it from him. It’s not the brand he uses at home. He’s not sure there will be a difference.

He doesn’t want to be on his front this time, not with someone watching. Instead Mitch leans back and spreads his legs, planting his feet and raising his knees, and wow, this position is so exposed, and Scott is staring right at him, half-lidded eyes fixed on Mitch’s cock, on his ass. Mitch squeezes some of the lube into his hands and rubs them together, slicking his palm, his fingers. It drips down his wrist, down his thigh.

Right hand around his cock, stroking absently, left hand cupping his balls, gentle, fingers playful. Then Mitch slides down and teases his hole with his middle finger. He rubs around it, smearing the lube, and he can’t think too hard about what he’s doing or he’ll back out. It’s not scary, exactly… Mitch closes his eyes. It’s just new and he’s nervous, and he can feel Scott’s gaze like a heavy weight pinning him to the bed.

Scott makes at throaty noise when Mitch finally pushes his middle finger in. It’s only to the first joint; the angle is awkward and Mitch’s wrist hurts a little from curling his hand this way, and there’s a reason he usually lies down and reaches behind himself, but it’s encouraging to hear Scott’s reaction. It’s nice to know it looks sexy, at least. Mitch slides his index finger alongside the middle, because if he can’t push very deep at least he can stretch himself.

Scott lays his palm on Mitch’s raised knee and murmurs, “That’s fucking hot, Mitchy.”

“I wish I could reach better,” Mitch replies. He’s concentrating so hard he’s not even stroking himself, just loosely holding his cock while he curls his fingers and tries to thrust them in and out. Even a toy would help—fuck, that would be hot too, Mitch thinks, imagining the sort of extremely pornographic show he could give Scott with a dildo or a vibrator. He needs to go shopping as soon as possible.

“Let me,” Scott says.

Yes, that is a good idea. Mitch moves his hands and spreads his legs wider, making room for Scott to kneel between them. Scott slicks his fingers with the lube and reaches and… stops. He’s only inches away from touching Mitch, and Mitch can practically feel the stretch already. There’s a groan caught in his throat. He wants it, his body wants it so badly.

He watches Scott for a few long seconds, breathing shallow in anticipation. “Please touch me,” he whispers.

“Does it hurt?” Scott asks.

Mitch shakes his head. “No, I like it.”

That’s all the assurance Scott needs; he slides the tips of his fingers down the length of Mitch’s cock and Mitch jumps like his touch is electric. Then Scott reaches lower and slips one finger inside him and it’s so much deeper than Mitch has ever managed by himself. He chokes on a gasp and lets his head fall back.

Scott touches Mitch’s knee again with his free hand. “Is this okay?”

“Yes, yes, good, yes.”

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“No, please more—”

Scott thrusts once more before adding a second finger, and his fingers are bigger than Mitch’s, and it’s just so much _more_ that Mitch can’t breathe for a moment. If this is at all close to what Scott’s dick will be like inside him, Mitch might lose his mind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses, “I love it, I love it so much, more.”

Scott complies, adding a third finger and twisting like they do in porn, and Mitch can feel every bump of his knuckles. It’s so intense. So much more intense than he expected. It’s so different, too, than stretching himself; Scott doesn’t know what Mitch is feeling, doesn’t know when it’s just right, that perfect angle. He doesn’t know what Mitch means when he says ‘more’, doesn’t understand that it’s not enough, that Mitch wants to feel the ache of a stretch, the pressure and the heat of it.

“Can I fuck you now?” Scott asks. “I think I might die if I don’t fuck you right now.”

Mitch nods quickly and Scott moves closer, positioning himself between Mitch’s legs. It’s sort of awkward, and Mitch doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he holds onto his own knees, keeping them bent and hopefully out of the way. He hears more than sees Scott tear off a condom and roll it on, and he nestles back into the pillows, preparing himself as much as he can. Finally, he feels the slippery latex, the blunt head of Scott’s cock against his ass.

Scott doesn’t waste time. He pushes forward, pushes in, steady but not all that slow, and it’s so much thicker than his fingers, even three of them, and it’s so much _hotter_ too, both in terms of sexy and actual heat. Mitch feels like he’s going to burn up from the inside, set ablaze by Scott’s fucking dick, _fuck_.

Scott sets a quick pace, thrusting in bursts like he’s jacking off, hurried and breathless, and Mitch’s legs are cramping up from being held in this position but it’s not enough to hurt, it’s not enough to distract him from how _good_ Scott feels inside him. Scott is _inside him_.

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying out until Scott slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Shh, fuck, quiet,” Scott hisses. Mitch remembers they’re in Scott’s house. Scott’s bedroom. Scott’s family is downstairs. That’s not something he wants to think about, except that it sends a rush of adrenaline through his entire body and he flushes red at the danger, the risk of being caught. At home, with his own parents, embarrassment and shame keep him quiet, but apparently Scott’s parents don’t hold the same power over him. He understands Scott’s insistence on silence, though, and when Scott’s hand starts to drift away, Mitch grabs his wrist to keep it in place. He doesn’t trust himself to stay quiet.

Scott’s palm is wet with sweat and saliva and the damp air Mitch exhales. His hand slips. He’s too distracted. His fingertips catch on Mitch’s lip; Mitch sucks them into his mouth. He’s never sucked a cock before, but he imagines this is good practice, his tongue wrapped around Scott’s fingers, tasting the salty sweat and skin.

Scott groans low and deep. “I’m gonna come, Mitch, I’m gonna come, fuck—”

Mitch isn’t that close yet, hasn’t even been touching himself. He lets Scott’s fingers slide out of his mouth. Would he be this close to coming if their roles were reversed? Scott’s panting, his brow wrinkled in concentration. What does it feel like to be on the other side of this equation? What does it feel like to be inside someone. To be inside Scott. “Fuck,” Mitch gasps. They’ll have to try that later. Just to know. Mitch has to know.

Scott grits his teeth and groans and gasps and throws his head back and Mitch is so caught up in watching the rapid sequence of expressions on Scott’s face that it takes him a moment to realize what’s happening, Scott’s coming, Scott’s inside him and coming, and honestly Mitch thought he’d be able to feel it, but he doesn’t. He’s a little disappointed, but maybe it’s the condom. Maybe it’s how distracted he was, too. Scott’s cock slips out and that, _that_ , Mitch can feel, because he’s suddenly so empty and surprisingly cold, like Scott really was the fire keeping him warm inside.

He whines, he can’t help it, and his cock throbs.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Scott says, panting. “I’m sorry, I just… I couldn’t wait. I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I was too fast, I—”

“No, I just—”

“I couldn’t help it, I’m sorry—”

“No, Scott, Scotty, please, it’s fine, I just—I just miss it, I miss your cock, that sounds so stupid but I want you inside me again, that was so good, it was perfect.” Scott backs up and Mitch’s leg spasms when he lowers it. “Fuck, ow, cramp.”

“Oh, baby—” Scott rubs Mitch’s thigh, digging his thumb in and kneading the muscle to soothe the cramp.

Scott’s never called him baby before. A quick thrill races to his gut and he squirms, twisting his hips minutely.

“I’m sorry I didn’t last longer,” Scott says with a sheepish chuckle. “You didn’t even—”

“It’s fine,” Mitch cuts in. He wraps a hand around his cock and squeezes. “It’s normal. Or so I’ve read. Don’t worry about it. I can just jack off if you keep talking to me.” _If you call me baby again_ , he doesn’t say.

“No, that’s not fair. What if I, um…” Scott hesitates, his gaze jumping from Mitch’s face down to his dick. “What if I suck you off?”

“Um.”

“I want to try it,” Scott tells him.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. Sure.” _Sure_. “Please.”

“Here, lay down,” Scott says. He tugs Mitch’s leg until he’s lying flat on the bed, Scott hunched over beside him. “I’ve never done this before. Obviously. So tell me if I suck at it. I mean—you know what I mean.”

Mitch can’t imagine Scott sucking—or more accurately, being bad at sucking—but he nods and reaches up to grasp the corners of the pillowcase, just for something to hold onto. In porn they always pull the guy’s hair or hold him down, but Mitch doesn’t want to exert that kind of control over Scott, not when they’re both so new at this. He bites his lip and waits.

Scott waits too. Maybe he’s nervous. He probably is. The anticipation is starting to get to Mitch, though, and he squirms again, tilting his hips in tiny little motions.

“Just don’t bite,” Mitch says, laughing to relieve some tension.

Scott rests one hand on Mitch’s hip, bracing himself or maybe holding Mitch still, and dives down. He goes for it, taking Mitch in, sealing his lips around the shaft and sliding down all the way to the base, and Mitch’s cock hits the back of Scott’s throat and Mitch nearly comes right then because Scott’s throat or his tongue or _something_ tightens and flutters around him, squeezing hot and wet, and it’s like nothing Mitch has ever felt before, certainly not with his own hand.

It turns out Scott is very enthusiastic about blowjobs. He sucks and slurps and doesn’t slip even once with his teeth, and Mitch can’t help but wonder if this is what it’s like to fuck someone. Then Scott reaches down and shoves a couple of fingers back in Mitch’s ass and curls them and twists them and Mitch cries out. His orgasm hits him like lightning; his entire body tenses and vibrates and he can feel tingling all the way to his fingers and toes. He forgets to breathe for a moment and he loses control of his hips, and Scott gags around him, and it feels so _fucking incredible_ , even as Scott pulls back and coughs, because there’s come and saliva dripping from Scott’s lips and it’s the hottest thing Mitch has ever seen in his life.

“Sorry,” Mitch gasps, slowly recovering his breath. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Scott replies. He wipes his chin with the back of his wrist. “That was amazing.”

He licks his lips clean then and the question tumbles from Mitch’s mouth without even pausing at his brain first: “What does it taste like?”

Scott tilts his head, considering, but instead of answering, he leans forward and kisses Mitch. He pushes his tongue between Mitch’s parted lips and Mitch can taste it, he can taste his own come, the subtle tang of it beneath Scott’s regular taste. He whines into Scott’s mouth, his cock throbbing, wishing he could come again.

“I need to try that myself next time,” he says.

“Next time?” Scott asks.

“Yeah, so you can see what it’s like on this end. And I can see what it’s like to fuck you. And taste you.”

Scott closes his eyes, clearly caught up in his imagination as he sighs and drags his teeth slowly over his lower lip. Everything Scott does is so sensual, and he’s not even trying.

“I feel like I need a cigarette,” Mitch says, “just to complete the cliché.”

“I know what you mean,” Scott replies. He stretches out next to Mitch, leaning their heads together so they can fit on the same pillow. Their shoulders are flush and Scott’s radiating heat; Mitch scoots down and curls into him, automatically assuming their usual cuddle position tucked under Scott’s arm.

“Do you think your parents have any idea what we’ve been doing up here?” Mitch wonders aloud. He feels Scott’s involuntary shudder and laughs.

“I fucking hope they don’t.”

“I was kind of loud. Sorry.”

“I doubt they heard you, but yeah, you were… vocal. Do you think we should tell them? Our parents?”

“That we had sex?” Mitch asks shrilly. “Absolutely not.” Telling people involves commitment, and that’s not something Mitch can deal with just yet.

Scott doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he nods. “Okay,” he says simply. Mitch recognizes the quiet acceptance and he’s scared to examine too closely what it might mean. “Was it what you expected?” Scott asks. “Was it… Did you like it?”

“I really liked it,” Mitch replies. It’s too much for him to think about coherently right now, too big and too important. He needs to let it sink in, because it hasn’t yet. He just had sex. With his best friend. And it was amazing. “I loved it,” he says.

“Me too.”

“We’re definitely doing this again,” Mitch murmurs. He taps Scott’s chest, grazes his fingertips lightly over Scott’s nipple. “There’s some more things I want to try.”

Chuckling, Scott presses his lips to Mitch’s hair. “Practice makes perfect.”

“You know me,” Mitch says flippantly. “Perfectionist.”

 

 _fin_.


End file.
